by Adam Carter
With regards to this world, the fundamental question was why?
“I don’t know,” Hunter admitted at last. “Why would someone put dinosaurs here?”
“Because they could. And maybe they also put something else here, something which had never existed anywhere else. Again, because they could.” He paused, but could see she still did not understand what he was saying. “There are no fossil records of this creature. There are no similar animals back on Earth to which we can compare it. When lions were introduced to Io they panicked, went mad. They attacked handlers, their own pride, anything that came to their jaws. That was unexpected, but explainable by the fact that lions had never before existed in such an atmosphere, or with Jupiter hanging over their heads. With dinosaurs we don’t have the actual animals to look at and compare, but we can make reasonable guesses as to whether their behaviour here is natural. With this new creature though?” He shook his head. “We haven’t a clue.”
“And you’ve never seen it before in your time here?”
“If anyone in the prison had seen it, word would have got to me. The only person here who’s seen it is Whitsmith. It didn’t kill her. I wonder why.”
“Why?” Hunter snapped.
“I ... said I wondered why?” He could see Hunter was wound so tight she was on the verge of snapping, and by doing so would likely ping off a few shots into him without even considering it. “She wasn’t attacking it, she wasn’t armoured. Maybe it was curious.”
“Curious?”
Zebadiah wished she would stop repeating him. “Perhaps it had never seen a human civilian before. Or,” he had a sudden thought, “maybe it’s the armour it doesn’t like. Maybe whoever wore that armour before you did some terrible things to its species.”
It was all conjecture, but it was also based on common sense. He could see Hunter was beginning to understand him, beginning to fear he was right. He was all but convinced now these three women had themselves done nothing towards these creatures and that it was after them because of their armour. It was strangely amusing to think it wasn’t their fault, although he was not fool enough to laugh in her face over it.
Hunter moved more quickly than he had ever seen her. Still keeping her gun trained upon him, she tore her armour from her body piece by piece, discarding everything as though it was on fire. She shifted the gun to her other hand whenever she needed to, but struggled with the breastplate since she only had the one hand to use. Zebadiah wondered what she thought an old man would have been able to do to her. Eventually she succeeded in stripping the armour entirely and kicked it into the storm in disgust. Beneath the armour she wore dark tight-fitting clothes which may have been some form of uniform, may have been picked up from the same place as the armour. Either way, Zebadiah doubted it was going to do her much good. The animal had her scent, it knew her face, and it wasn’t going to be confused just because she had removed her only real defence against its claws.
Again, this was something he decided not to point out.
“Anything else you might know before I put a bullet in you?” she asked, even sounding serious.
“Only that I may not have met those things, but I’m the best thing to a dinosaur profiler you’re going to get around here.”
“What about Whitsmith?”
“Well, she has the field experience, yes, but I ...”
“She knows everything you do and has field experience?”
Zebadiah paused. “Well, I wouldn’t put it quite like ...”
“She’s with Torrance,” Hunter said, gazing through the storm in thought, as though she would be able to see the other woman through the rain and black night. “Stupid girl, she’s probably botched this up as well.”
“You two don’t like Torrance much do you?”
“Girl’s an idiot.”
Zebadiah stared past Hunter, out into the night. He tried not to give any reaction, but was certain he could see something out there. A form in the dark night. He concentrated upon the sloped side of the roof, where the rain sloshed into the gutter. There was something perched at the end, like a prone grotesque. The harder he stared the more he was certain he could see the form begin to move, shuffling ever towards the small concealment in which the two of them were contained. Zebadiah could think of no natural creature in this area which could have made it to the roof, since none ever had before. That meant it had to be either this mysterious beast or else someone trying to get the drop on Hunter. Perhaps Valentine had found them and had sent someone to ambush her.
Whichever it was, Zebadiah knew his chances with it would be better than his chances with Hunter. As such he tore his eyes from the form and tried to engage the psychopath in conversation once more. He fought for something to say, tried to keep it normal and free-flowing.
“Nice weather we’re having.”
Hunter stared at him blankly.
Zebadiah shrugged. “If you like storms, of course.”
He risked a glance back into the storm and could see the figure had paused in its crouch. Unfortunately Hunter saw Zebadiah’s eyes flicker in that direction and she half-turned to see what he was looking at, her gun still kept trained upon him. She gasped the instant she saw it, swinging her gun about to crack off three shots. The sound thundered within the enclosed shelter, but by the light of the explosions Zebadiah could see the thing was indeed the upright troodont. He watched it leap, evading the shots, even as Hunter took off across the sloping roof, stumbling but not caring as she fled.
Zebadiah was left in silence, wondering why she had removed the armour. If she wanted it not to recognise her as an enemy, shooting at it wasn’t such a hot idea.
He listened for any sign of the creature, for he could see very little in the darkness and had only assumed it had chased the psychopathic non-soldier. He knew he should have been panicking, should have been on the verge of a heart attack, but he was not. So far as he saw things, he was in no greater danger now than he had been a moment earlier. If the creature wanted to kill him it would do so: there was nothing he could do about it.
A hiss echoed through the shelter then, the sound of water spattering hot metal. So the creature was still out there, he reasoned, and it was trying to scare him or something. Possibly it wanted him to run out into the rain in a panic, but instead Zebadiah sat patiently waiting to see what it would do. After but a few moments it landed at the entrance as silent as a falling leaf. The creature was indeed magnificent, beautiful even; its muscular almost human form standing imperiously, with back straightened in pride of its achievements. Zebadiah noted it was wounded, for blood poured from its side in what appeared to be a knife-wound. The creature was not infallible then, but nor would it allow an injury to slow it down. Oddly enough, while animals were always at their most dangerous when injured, they tended to find safe ground and stay there. This one seemed to have done entirely the opposite and attacked the enemy in its home ground. Perhaps the wound was fatal and it wanted to take its foes down with it. If so, the creature was far more human than beast, and that, Zebadiah reasoned, was the most frightening thought of all.
“If we had you in the pits,” he told the creature without a single tremor to his voice, “we wouldn’t have nearly so many heroes among us any more.”
The creature continued to stare at him for several more moments, and then lunged for the kill.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Valentine had asked the sergeant what Hunter’s strategy would be now that she had Zebadiah, but Cartello could not tell him. It was an odd admission for a military leader, and Valentine could not understand how Cartello did not seem to know that much about the soldiers under her command. Locating Hunter was the priority, however, for should he lose Zebadiah he could not think of anyone qualified to look after the animals.
He had dispatched several units to find Hunter, giving them orders to take her alive if possible but that they should preserve Zebadiah’s life over hers. Cartello had strangely not countermanded that order, which ga
ve Valentine even more concern over the situation. He could see the annoyance in her eyes, but it was more than that. He realised she was afraid of Hunter, afraid she would do something stupid, and Valentine no longer knew what to think of any of these people.
“Dex!”
Valentine pulled his radio from his belt. The sound was faint, the signal scratchy, but the voice was unmistakable. “Aubrey?”
“Storm’s lessening out here,” Whitsmith said. “We’re almost back to the prison. Listen. Hudson’s dead and that thing’s probably on its way to you right now.”
Valentine felt his blood chill. “How do you figure that?”
“Because it didn’t kill me or Torrance so it had to have gone somewhere more important.”
Valentine heard Cartello grunt, and she rechecked her weapons nervously.
“Thanks,” Valentine said through the radio. “You and Torrance lie low until we take care of this thing.”
“Hold on, Dex. You have to watch out for Hunter. Blondie says she’s a psychopathic killer. They’re not soldiers. They’re prisoners being transferred between moons. They stole the armour and got that thing mad. Hunter’s not going to like being stalked so who knows what she’ll do.”
“I have a pretty fair idea on what she might do, Aubrey. Kidnapping for one thing.”
“What?”
“Just lie low. I’ll let you know if any of us survive.” He returned the radio to his belt and arched an eyebrow at Cartello. She was not pointing her guns at him, which he could only take to be a good sign.
“All right,” she shrugged. “So we’re criminals.”
“All in the same boat then.”
She frowned and Valentine realised she really was that dense.
“Right,” Valentine said, “so we have a crazy woman running around the prison, a hostage and a monster. Zebadiah will have to take care of himself because I think we’re going to have to concentrate on the creature.”
“Hunter will do whatever she needs to,” Cartello said. “She doesn’t care about any of us. All she wants is her own survival. She’ll use us as far as she can, but will kill us if she has to.”
“You’re saying she’s more dangerous than the monster?”
“No. I’m saying once we kill the monster I’m going to shoot her down as well.”
“Oh. And I thought the people here were harsh."
Valentine informed his teams to be on the lookout for the monster as well as Hunter and decided he would be a lot safer sticking with Cartello. He was immensely intrigued with what Whitsmith had said, for if these people had stolen their armour he wanted to know from where. Their guards presumably, in which case those guards would now be dead, but Valentine was beginning to think that there was more going on here than he understood. If there was a chance there were other people on this world, he needed to know.
That could, of course, wait until their problems had been dealt with.
Gunfire sounded in the distance and Valentine tried to work out where it was coming from. Cartello was running by then so he gave pursuit, hoping they would not run into a hail of bullets. The gunfire intensified the more ground they covered, and became intermingled with screams. Wishing he carried a weapon, Valentine knew it was still safer with Cartello, and decided he would re-evaluate once he started to see the bodies.
They broke out into a large open area with cells lining the hall all the way down. The walkways were about two metres wide, moving ahead as a corridor and splitting off every fifteen metres or so in order to connect the two lines of cells. Each walkway was enclosed by metal railing on either side. This left a lot of space in between, which was filled with open air, allowing any patrolmen to use these walkways and peer down the cells on the next level. There were three levels of such cells, and Cartello and Valentine were presently on the uppermost one.
Ahead, Valentine could see two bodies strewn across the floor, their throats torn out with medical precision, their bloody handprints all over the floor where the dying men had attempted in vain to crawl to safety before bleeding out or dying of shock. There were several more former inmates taking minimal cover behind the railing, shooting at the thing which had torn their fellows apart.
It was the first time Valentine had seen the beast, and he stopped short to stare in wonderment at the thing. It crouched upon the railing, its human-like legs coiled and ready to spring. The creature looked upon the gathered troops and hissed, blood and spittle spraying through the air.
Immediately Cartello set herself up in position to lend her own fire to the fray, resting her rifle upon a railing and taking aim. Valentine backed away, not wanting to present himself as a target.
The creature leapt, flying through the air, entirely heedless of the great drop with which it was flirting. Even through the air it moved with far greater speed than Valentine had ever seen an animal achieve and he could imagine it leaping from tree to tree in its native element. It landed amidst its attackers dispassionately, and they panicked, blasting and running and screaming. Valentine watched one man go down, a shot tearing through his leg, another woman clutching her face as blood exploded from her cheek. The creature dropped low, making no overtly hostile moves, and within the span of two seconds three of its attackers were down and the rest fled. The third person to fall was a man who had simply stumbled in his panic. He looked at the creature fearfully, and as it rose, calmly, it tore out his throat. Standing erect, the creature looked about for a fresh target, a swell of pride expanding its chest.
Valentine had never before seen a creature use its prey’s fear to such an extent and suddenly knew whatever this thing was it was capable of slaughtering them all.
A gunshot cracked in the spacious hall, the echo resounding from all sides. Cartello’s shot took the creature through the shoulder, sending it spinning, crimson ichor spraying up the bars of the closest cell. The creature did not fall into shock, however, and bounded upon the nearest rail, launching itself through the air to catch hold of a second rail, placing it beyond the range of Cartello’s rifle.
Cartello lowered her gun without even a hint of emotion.
Valentine felt it would be far easier for all concerned if they just trained their own weapons upon themselves.
“That thing reasons like a human being,” Valentine said. “Maybe we could try talking to it.”
Cartello arched an eyebrow, the glint of humour to her face.
Realising there were some things he should not say aloud, Valentine kept quiet from that moment and let Cartello work. By this point the creature had vanished entirely and he rather hoped someone had managed to get in a lucky shot. There were so many people running around the prison, shooting anything that moved, that Valentine figured the thing would have to get hit eventually. Its skill was still something which astounded him, for it had displayed not simple animal ingenuity but human-trained strategy. If it was clever, perhaps indeed it had taken instruction from someone; but if so who? And why?
He realised Cartello had moved off by this point, and he watched her. She moved slowly across the walkways, her gun held to her eyes, ready to shoot the thing the instant it reared its head. Valentine leaned on the rail before him, glancing down to the two levels below. He could see people moving around down there as well, hunting for this creature. It was wounded now, so it might well be heading somewhere it could hide and tend to its wounds. Until it got there it would be extremely dangerous, but at least Cartello had shown the creature could be wounded; and anything that could be wounded could be killed.
He watched as Cartello glanced into one of the cells, which was a sound strategy since they were dark, utilitarian places. Just the location the creature might have chosen to rest. Apparently she found nothing, for she kept moving.
A strange scratching came to his ears and Valentine looked about, trying to pinpoint the source. Finally he looked down, and started as he saw the creature, scampering along the underside of one of the walkways, using all four of its limbs, and heading str
aight for him.
“It’s here!” he shouted frantically and several people on the level below began firing. Valentine dropped as the bullets whizzed about him, throwing his arms across his head. He tried to scuttle back, away from the danger zone, but he had only moved a metre or so when a dark form exploded before him. The creature landed upon the walkway ahead, dropping into a crouch and hissing at him. Its shoulders were hunched, its long arms held to the side, vicious claws poised, and Valentine could see the terrible injury to its shoulder which marked its otherwise unblemished body. He also noticed something else.
The creature possessed opposable thumbs. Even Valentine knew what an evolutionary leap that was.
“What are you?” he asked, terrified but weaponless. His only recourse was to reason with the creature, even though he knew it would do no good. The creature gave no indication that it could understand his language, that it had even heard him in fact. It shuffled towards him, eyes alive and alert. He could see the thing was enjoying the attack, that it revelled in this sort of encounter, and Valentine knew there was nothing he could say which would make any impression upon the creature at all.
Frantically he tried to think of anything he held which might help, but all he had of any use was his radio. The creature regarded him with a curious, lopsided stare. It knew he was unarmed, knew he posed no threat, and had elected to examine him, much as it had Whitsmith. It had not attacked Whitsmith, but then it had been frightened off by Hudson’s arrival: Valentine was no longer under any illusion that it would not have torn Whitsmith apart had not her companion arrived at the best of moments.
“I can offer you a deal,” Valentine said. “You let me live and I’ll get someone to teach you a few more moves. I know someone must have taught them you, I know you must have had human contact sometime in the past.” He was sweating now, for the creature was so close its curious claws brushed against his leg. It leaned its face towards him, sniffing, as though searching for a specific scent. Valentine sucked in his breath, his heart on the verge of exploding. He valiantly tried to think, tried to work out how he could survive this. But he could not. This creature was strategically the greatest warrior ever known, the perfect soldier trained by master sergeants.